Nowhere in Texas
by perenoelpower
Summary: When Brittany S.Pierce finds herself a little lost in the Texas desert, she'll need a little help finding her way back home... 90's
1. The First Day

**So this is my first fan fiction and this story is greatly inspired by a French Canadian book by the same name. Also, none of the places or the kind of weird characters in the story are real in Texas. You have been warned. The story takes place in 1990 so cellphones do NOT exist Good times. Enjoy!**

Chapter One 

Brittany S. Pierce stopped in front of the sandy beach letting the motor of his Westfalia purr. She extended her arm to reach the Texas road map on the passenger's seat.

After a minute, without having looked at the map once, she turned her car key. The magnificent view that she had under her eyes deserved a lot more than a little break. It was probably the most impressive view she had seen so far since she left Montreal.

Between Junior's Last Run, where she refilled her gas tank, and Badernia, the next little town, there was no other name on her map. The Junior's Last Run gas station had even put up a warning to anyone that wanted to go across the desert: "_Last 24-hour gas for next sixty miles."_ Actually, Brittany S. Pierce had read "_Dernière occasion de faire le plein à toute heure d'ici cent kilomètres._" She was a specialised translator and had the habit of translating everything she read in French. During her vacation's, it helped her avoid losing touch. But maybe she would still do it, even if she was a plumber or a taxi driver.

So, she arrived minutes later at the bottom of the hill. Hundreds of meters away from the road, long beautiful white waves came crashing on the shore of the beach. It was hot, terribly hot, even with the windows rolled down. It was already 2 o'clock in the afternoon. The salt of the ocean water on Brittany S. Pierce couldn't annoy her for much longer since she was projecting to stop at a camping site right after Badernia, close to the Mexican border.

The Westfalia then went on a little trail were a few weeds were miserably trying to grow.

Brittany S. Pierce advanced slowly. On the left, two old Chevrolets were busy rusting. She continued to move forward, and finally, the sea opened up to her eyes. During three months, she had already seen beautiful beaches since she'd left Montreal, but never like this one.

Imagine a little bay with a few big rocks in the middle in a blue and turquoise sea where the waves came slowly to die on the sand, white as snow. Above all, this beach had an advantage that none of the others had, no one was there. Not one big American belly, not one American thigh. Not one kite flying in the sky or beach umbrellas in sight. No fishing lines, no beach chairs, no coolers, no radio, not even dogs. Nothing. The beach was hers and hers only.

She got out of her vehicle, went to reach for her beach equipment when she realized something. There was really no one else around. Finally, the perfect occasion to bathe naked in this American puritan country where a naked boob deserved a vacation in prison.

She undressed herself, left her clothes in her car and walked towards the water.

The temperature was not cold at all. It was perfectly refreshing and all the heat that her body accumulated disappeared in an instant. She dived in the water, shaking her now wet hair and dived again. She swam gracefully thought the waves and then letting her body come back to a vertical position. She was barely touching the ground. It would be better not to go further, in case the waves pushed her away from the shore.

She was about to go back to the beach when she heard the familiar roaring of her Westfalia start.

She only had time to see a shadow on the conductor's seat. A wave pushed her towards the shore and she forced herself to get back on her feet and battled against the water that was pushing her the other way.

The Westfalia left at a furious speed and disappeared before Brittany S. Pierce could do anything about it.

She started running on the sandy trail and through the dust cloud that the vehicle left behind. Then, the cloud vanished. When she arrived at the road, nothing was left, only the tracks of the Westphalia's wheels that indicated that the car had gone to the left.

She stayed on the side of the road until the little pink dot of the Westfalia disappeared.

Then, she realized that she was alone, on the side of a road, with no clothes. She just saw, not only her vehicle, but her camping gear, her food, her money and her passport disappear.

The sun was now burning her head. She sat under a bush to think of what she should do now. She could wait for another car to pass by. But who would pick-up a naked girl in the middle of the desert? She probably had more chance of getting kidnapped than anything else. The only solution for her was to walk in the water, to stay hydrated, and pray to find a house that could help her. That was as random as the previous idea but at least she would stay protected from the sun.

So, she started walking.

After a few hours under the burning sun, Brittany S. Pierce finally sees a little house. It's not in a very good condition, but there is a night light so somebody must be in there. She walks over there carefully and knocks on the door trying to cover her body as much as possible.

She knocked on the door.

"Excuse me", she yelled in English trying to make her voice seem strong but soft at the same time. "I'm a stranger and my car and clothes got stolen. Please help me."

No answer. She bit her top lip for forgetting her _for God's sake_.

"Is anybody there?" She asked again.

"Sure I'm here" Replied a soft voice with a characteristic south accent. Like it was evident that she was there before talking.

"Excuse me", she repeated, "I'm a stranger and someone stole my car and my clothes. For God's sake help me."

"Bullshit" Said the voice.

"I swear…"

The door opened showing an oil lamp and a woman. She tried to cover her body behind the door frame.

The woman was quite tanned. Old or young? Hard to tell with the low lighting.

"I swear, someone stole everything I had. I need help. Can you call..."

"No telephone"

"Oh…"

She hesitated, trying to think what to say next, but the fact that she was busy trying to hide herself distracted her enough.

"Listen", she finally said, "Please give me some old clothes and I will bless you and your husband until the end of time."

The woman pouted. Maybe she was less religious then most people in the South that she met so far?

"No husband." She finally said indifferently.

Maybe the stranger would finally take pity of her.

"Fine, I'll see what I can get you. Stay here." She replied. As she turned around, I could finally see her under the fragile light of her lamp. The woman had long black hair and, as she walked into her room, Brittany S. Pierce could admire her curbs and her sensual walk.

She came out quickly with a full pair of clothes.

She got dressed really quickly, finally able to feel comfortable in hot clothes. As she finished, she didn't know what else to do. Should she ask for food? She already interrupted her in the middle of the night and took some of her clothes. Not knowing what to do, she just stood there wondering what to say.

"Thank you" She finally blurred out shyly.

"You're welcome"

"Is there… A neighbor that can call the police?"

"No neighbor. The closest is in 30 miles that way and 30 miles that way." She said systematically and pointing with her thumb in two different directions. "Anyways, I can't phone them."

"You don't have a car either?"

"No car. Anyway, sheriff Case doesn't really like strangers walking naked.

"I understand" She said, even if she didn't totally understand.

"He doesn't like homos and nudists either."

"I understand." She said with the same tone of incomprehension.

"I'm really happy that you understand." She said with a little laugh.

Noticing that she could laugh, Brittany S. Pierce was comforted. But she had nothing left to say. She tried to fake going away, trying to get the stranger to invite her in.

She turned around, got down the stairs. The woman didn't call her back. She simply let the door shut behind her. She walked to the beach and sat down.

She wasn't sure if her situation had gotten better. Sure, she wasn't naked anymore. But the cold of the night is going to catch her without a blanket.

The closest neighbor was 30 miles away, which meant the closest telephone is 30 miles away.

What would a woman be doing here alone, without a telephone and a car, in the middle of the desert?

"I found this too."

She turned around. She was giving her a little vest.

"Thanks a lot."

"There's nothing to it" She repeated, turning around and leaving.

In the vest, she also found two pieces of bread that she instantly ate with urge.

She didn't hear any more sound so she figured the woman went had gone to bed. After this awful day, she should get some rest too… Brittany S. Pierce laid on the sandy beach, counting the stars and before she knew it, she was fast asleep.


	2. The Second Day

Thanks for the reviews and the Favorites Alerts, it's really appreciated. I know it's been a long time since I've updated but school's been keeping me busy. Hope you like this chapter!

Side note: This story is taking place in the 90's.

Chapter 2

Before she even opened her eyes, her little adventure from yesterday all came back to her. Even worse, she felt a shadow on top of her and it was probably that object that had waken her up.

She tried to keep her eyes shut and play dead. She hoped shyly that if it was a coyote hunter, he wouldn't have the heart to waste a bullet on a dead.

The shadow was slowly moving away from her as she heard footsteps leaving. She opened her eyes and turned her head towards the sound of the shoes on the sand and saw the Latina woman who was walking delicately to her house. Beside her, the woman had left a cup of coffee and two pieces of bread in a newspaper.

"Where are you going?" She asked her when she realized that the woman was going around her house.

"Work."

She had said that with a happy tone. She probably had a good profession.

She got up, followed her around the house to see that she was going on a little trail made of little rocks and shells.

"Where?"

"Over there."

She had made a vague sign, like where the place where she worked included all South Texas and maybe the North too. She ran to catch up with her, but had to slow down when her bare feet reached the rocks and the shells.

"How are you going?"

"A limousine is gonna pick me up."

She had said that with the kind of shoulder shrug that usually tried to cover a small laugh but could also be nothing.

Brittany S. Pierce stopped in the middle of the trail. Her feet were hurting from the sharper shells. She was looking around her, left, right, to where she could stand without the pain. But all around her were big thick bushes that would probably scratch her skin.

"Can you bring me with you?"

"No way."

She was already disappearing behind the house.

Brittany S. Pierce tried to reach her, but abandoned due to her bare feet.

She came back on the beach where she drank the lukewarm coffee and ate the two pieces of bread that were enveloped in the _Natural Enquirer _newspaper. She had the habit of reading everything she had under her eyes and she read, while chewing her bread, an article about the survival of John Kennedy, recently photographed en a café in Dallas with his brother Robert. Another woman claimed that she had slept with 16% of the senators of the United States and with 21% of the members of the United States House.

She also found out about serious things, well, in appearance. For example, on our planet, two lawyers out of three practiced their profession in the United States, country that educated ten times the amount of lawyers than engineers, while Japan was doing the exact opposite.

Once breakfast was over and the page read, Brittany S. Pierce finally took her time to look at what she was wearing. Her blouse had a wavy pattern and was yellow and green with simple jeans.

She had buttoned it all wrong the night before so she carefully rebuttoned it right. She went and installed herself on a big rock under the shadow of the nearest coconut tree. Like the day before, everything indicated that this was a part of paradise. White sand with little shells where the waves came crashing down. A soft wind. Even the sky was a desert of its own. This place was far away from the military bases and the civil airways. This was exactly what she had been looking for the entire trip. On this beach, if she had her Westfalia, the rest of her material and a little water, she would've been really happy.

Thinking about water made her look around the house to find out if there was an exterior water tap. She didn't find one.

There was no other door on the other side of the house; where there normally is one. She came back on the side of the beach. With surprise, the door opened easily without resistance. There was no lock or hook. The owner wasn't scared of anyone stealing. A quick glance of the inside told Brittany S. Pierce that there wasn't much to steal. She came in, a little shy doing so without permission.

There was an old water tap that she could use to hydrate herself. Beside was a little cup full of water. After a few seconds, she got all the water she needed and drank it rapidly.

She then examined the rest of the small house.

It only had two rooms - a kitchen that was also the living room and a bedroom- plus a tiny bathroom with a rusted toilet bowl.

In the flood supply, there was only a quarter of a loaf of bread that was, if Brittany S. Pierce made the right calculations, past the due date. And also a good dozen of _chili con carne_ in cans, all of the same brand: Grandma Thurston.

She opened the television but nothing. She tried to change channels. Still nothing. She pressed on the light switch on the wall. Nothing. There was no more electricity.

She came back to the bedroom, taking in the sweet scent of the woman. Realizing that there was no other pair of shoes, she went in the kitchen and found a pair of mittens under the sink. Miracle! They fitted her feet. Not entirely, but still.

It had to be around noon when she finally finished inspecting the stranger's house and went back to the beach. She went on the trail of the rocks and the shells and started walking. With the mittens on her feet, the pain was almost inexistent and she easily reached the main road.

Where could she work with a limousine picking her up? A whorehouse maybe? She was a natural beauty, but she didn't give the impression that that was her job. Plus it made her crawl under her skin for thinking that. She didn't want the woman to sell her body for money…

While thinking and walking, she finally saw what she was looking for. The woman was on the other side of the road.

She went and hid behind a bush.

She was sitting on a chair, under the shadow of a little roof on four posts. She was reading a newspaper –probably the last _Natural Enquirer_. Between the stranger and the road, there was an old styled gas station with three big pumps. Besides her, a sign: "No gas within 30 miles. No water. No air. No credit. No roadmap. No foolin' around."

The seven first parts of the sign were pretty clear. But Brittany S. Pierce couldn't quite figure out the last warning: "No foolin' around." She could understand clearly that the only advantage of this gas station was simple: There was no other competition in a place where to run out of gas wasn't such a good idea. But the _No foolin' around_ threw Brittany S. Pierce in her thoughts. What did she mean by that? Was it a warning to anyone that would want to waste her time? A threat to anyone that could steal her gas? Or was it more of a recommendation for everyone who was tempted to take advantage of her to back off? If she had to translate it, she would have gone with something as vague: "Pas de batifolage", for example.

She stayed there for a long time - an hour, maybe more- watching the woman. But no vehicle passed by and the sun was beginning to burn the top of her blonde her really hard. She preferred to go back to her coconut tree by the beach even if it meant leaving the Latina beauty not far away from her.

Hunger kept her busy the whole afternoon, until the woman came back.

"So, you're still here?" She exclaimed while going on the porch.

"Where would you want me to go?" She answered trying to sound more pitiful than aggressive.

She had already pushed the door and entered her house without taking care of her.

Brittany S. Pierce stayed there, sitting under her coconut tree, asking herself if she should go knock on the door to remind her of her existence, in case she had forgotten. She knew perfectly that she was annoying the woman. If she was living in the middle of nowhere (in the case that she chose to be here), it was probably because she didn't particularly want to meet anyone new.

She was about to get up and go beg the stranger to help her get out of here when the woman came out of the small house with a plastic bowl and a utensil. She walked over to her and offered her the bowl.

It was a _chili con carne_ can with a big rusted stainless steel spoon.

"Thanks a lot."

She answered with her eternal _You're welcome._

"You need to get out of here. If the Sherriff Justin Case see's you here, you're not better than dead."

"Exactly, if I want to get out of here, I need to see the Sherriff. All my stuff has been stolen. In my country, when you get stolen, we go see the police. Here too, right?"

She didn't catch the irony in her voice and stayed still, shaking her head.

"What color was your car?"

"It's a Westfalia – a Volkswagen vehicle made for camping, do you know what I mean? The one where the roof opens up on one side like this…"

She had placed her two arms in front of her and had moved up on hand to gesture how the roof of a Westfalia opened up. The woman shook her head to signify that it was impossible for a vehicle's roof to open like that.

"I don't get it. But what color was it?"

"Why does it matter?"

"What color is your fucken truck?

She had said that louder. Intimidated that she had gotten mad for so little, she answered sheepishly:

"Pink."

"Oh shit."

She had said that with such a catastrophed look that Brittany S. Pierce was asking herself why it as so wrong to possess a pink Westfalia, even though it wasn't her favorite colour either, purple would have been better.

"It's a used vehicle. I bought off someone that was going to die."

"Of AIDS I guess?"

"No, of cancer" She lied blatantly.

Oddly, Bernard the florist had died of AIDS, the previous owner of her lost Westfalia. And Brittany S. Pierce was surprised to be ashamed of the disease of the last owner of the car.

"Listen, she continued, if you talk to the Sherriff Case, tell him you lost a black Westfalia, not a pink one. Or else you're dead."

"What does the Sherriff has against pink Westfalia's? He got hit by one or something?

"Maybe he did." She answered with the tone of someone that was finished with the conversation.

Surprisingly, she stopped talking, turned around and went back to her home. But while opening the door, she had time to yell her:

"Next time you take some water, leave a glass under the sink. There's nothing more irritating."

She didn't have time to apologise that the door was already shut. She looked at the bowl of chili and started eating. When she was done, she rinsed the bowl and the spoon with salt water and left them on the porch in exchange of an additional blanket.

"Thank you!" She yelled.

A small sound came from the inside. Maybe it was a usual _You're welcome_ or maybe just a chair moving.

It was quite cold that night. Brittany S. Pierce was still hungry and couldn't sleep. She came to the conclusion that if someone had stolen her Westfalia, he had to have another of transporting himself. Who would walk 30 miles to steal a car on the middle of a beach? The person came with another vehicle: another car, a motor bike, maybe even a bike. And if she had looked around the beach the night before she might have found that other vehicle.

Maybe it was still time too next morning. She could find prints on the ground or even her own Westfalia! Even if she doesn't find anything, it would at least occupy her thoughts.

She promised herself to beg the woman to tell the next driver that goes through her gas station to call her sister in Montreal and tell her that she had big problem's between Junior's Last Run and Badernia.

Thanks for reading and leave your thoughts!


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